question. I’ve been looking for you for weeks. I thought you’d had another depressive attack or something, but your dad said you hadn’t come home.”
“He actually talked to you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sort of. He still hates me. But this time he wasn’t ignoring me, he was accusing me of running off with you. I put two and two together and figured he couldn’t find you either.”
I look around quickly; we’re getting some looks from the other patients, but none of them are close enough to hear, and the only doctor in the room is on the far side, holding some kind of therapy session by the TV. I lean in close to Lucy, whispering softly.
“I was running from someone.”
Her face goes solemn. “Who?”
I gesture discretely at the room around us. “Who do you think? I’m not sure of the details, but…” I lean closer. “Do you remember when I used to tell you there were people watching me?”
“Yeah, but you never told me who. Is it these guys—the hospital?”
I’ve never told her the truth before. Will she believe me? Will she think I’m crazy? I don’t know if I dare tell her everything. “I’m not sure of all the details, because I’ve lost some memory, but about two weeks ago They made some kind of move—or at least I think They must have, because something prompted me into action, and I went on the run. I left home, I stopped going to work, I was hiding out … somewhere. Dr. Vanek said the police found me under an overpass, but I must have run because I fell out of a window. That’s when they finally caught me.”
“You fell?” She puts a hand on my head, feeling for lumps. “Are you okay? Is that why you lost memory?”
“I think so, or it might be the…” It might be the MRI, reacting with the implant, but I don’t say that out loud. I can’t bear the thought of her looking at me the way the doctors do, like I’m some kind of helpless head case. “Listen, it’s not important how they caught me, what matters is that I need to get out of here. This is not like last year when I spent two weeks in recovery for anxiety—this is serious. They’ve trumped up a big fake diagnosis so they can hold me indefinitely; something called schizophrenia.”
She shakes her head. “Multiple personalities?”
“No, that’s something else. Schizophrenia is like I’m hallucinating or something—like an official stamp that invalidates everything I say. As long as they tell people I’m crazy, they can hold me in here and observe me and do anything they want with me. I think they might even be experimenting on me.”
Lucy snarls. “Bastards. Why do they want you?”
I say nothing, staring into her face. She stares back, angry and worried and trusting. I take a deep breath—I won’t tell her everything, but I can tell her some.
“They think I have something to do with the Red Line Killer.”
“What?” She practically shouts it, and I quiet her quickly, hissing through my teeth.
“Keep it down!”
“They think you’re the Red Line?”
“Dr. Vanek said they did, but no one’s asked me any questions yet. How much do you know about the case?”
“Not much,” she says, “just stuff I’ve overheard in the restaurant. Why do they think it has anything to do with you?”
“Because the victims were all…” I can’t mention the Faceless Men—she doesn’t know about them. “They were all from the Children of the Earth.”
“Milos Cerny’s cult?”
I nod. Milos Cerny was the man who killed my mother. “I need you to find out more,” I say. “Find out everything you can—who the Red Line’s killed, and when, and how, and what the Children have to do with it. I’m going to do what I can to get out of here, but I don’t want you tied up in that—I don’t want to give Them any excuse to come after you too.”
“I’ll do my best,” she says, “but … who are They?”
“I can’t tell you right now,” I say, “just please, trust me, and I’ll tell
“He actually talked to you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sort of. He still hates me. But this time he wasn’t ignoring me, he was accusing me of running off with you. I put two and two together and figured he couldn’t find you either.”
I look around quickly; we’re getting some looks from the other patients, but none of them are close enough to hear, and the only doctor in the room is on the far side, holding some kind of therapy session by the TV. I lean in close to Lucy, whispering softly.
“I was running from someone.”
Her face goes solemn. “Who?”
I gesture discretely at the room around us. “Who do you think? I’m not sure of the details, but…” I lean closer. “Do you remember when I used to tell you there were people watching me?”
“Yeah, but you never told me who. Is it these guys—the hospital?”
I’ve never told her the truth before. Will she believe me? Will she think I’m crazy? I don’t know if I dare tell her everything. “I’m not sure of all the details, because I’ve lost some memory, but about two weeks ago They made some kind of move—or at least I think They must have, because something prompted me into action, and I went on the run. I left home, I stopped going to work, I was hiding out … somewhere. Dr. Vanek said the police found me under an overpass, but I must have run because I fell out of a window. That’s when they finally caught me.”
“You fell?” She puts a hand on my head, feeling for lumps. “Are you okay? Is that why you lost memory?”
“I think so, or it might be the…” It might be the MRI, reacting with the implant, but I don’t say that out loud. I can’t bear the thought of her looking at me the way the doctors do, like I’m some kind of helpless head case. “Listen, it’s not important how they caught me, what matters is that I need to get out of here. This is not like last year when I spent two weeks in recovery for anxiety—this is serious. They’ve trumped up a big fake diagnosis so they can hold me indefinitely; something called schizophrenia.”
She shakes her head. “Multiple personalities?”
“No, that’s something else. Schizophrenia is like I’m hallucinating or something—like an official stamp that invalidates everything I say. As long as they tell people I’m crazy, they can hold me in here and observe me and do anything they want with me. I think they might even be experimenting on me.”
Lucy snarls. “Bastards. Why do they want you?”
I say nothing, staring into her face. She stares back, angry and worried and trusting. I take a deep breath—I won’t tell her everything, but I can tell her some.
“They think I have something to do with the Red Line Killer.”
“What?” She practically shouts it, and I quiet her quickly, hissing through my teeth.
“Keep it down!”
“They think you’re the Red Line?”
“Dr. Vanek said they did, but no one’s asked me any questions yet. How much do you know about the case?”
“Not much,” she says, “just stuff I’ve overheard in the restaurant. Why do they think it has anything to do with you?”
“Because the victims were all…” I can’t mention the Faceless Men—she doesn’t know about them. “They were all from the Children of the Earth.”
“Milos Cerny’s cult?”
I nod. Milos Cerny was the man who killed my mother. “I need you to find out more,” I say. “Find out everything you can—who the Red Line’s killed, and when, and how, and what the Children have to do with it. I’m going to do what I can to get out of here, but I don’t want you tied up in that—I don’t want to give Them any excuse to come after you too.”
“I’ll do my best,” she says, “but … who are They?”
“I can’t tell you right now,” I say, “just please, trust me, and I’ll tell
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